


Close to you

by Romanfan



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, World Wrestling Entertainment, ambreigns - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, festive oneshot, follow on of sorts from complusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanfan/pseuds/Romanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Christmas day and Roman is not with Dean. Frustration leads to ill conceived actions. All because Roman is not close to Dean</p><p>A festive follow up to 'Compulsion'.</p><p>Ambreigns AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to you

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to everyone whose read, reviewed and left kudos on my works. You have no idea how much its appreciated. 
> 
> Wishing you all a happy holiday.

_Sheer and utter chaos. Dean’s senses were being ravaged by sensory overload. The sight. The sound. Even that feeling which churned in him rose to his mouth leaving a sickly sensation in its wake. Dean felt the energy gush through him, his fists tight, his gaze low and scowling. And yet, he felt something else too. Something that was stirring in him uncontrollably. But he was not sure what._

_Dean stared down the large men in front of him. There were three of them. Security guards. Ugly and built like tanks, with expressions which could murder without touch. Faces strained, neck veins bulging in anger- one of them with a broken nose- courtesy of himself truly. Dean didn’t mean to. But when they repeatedly refused to let him through to see Roman, he snapped. Like a bull seeing red, he charged. Didn’t care who was caught on the receiving end of said rage._

_Behind the burley security guards he sees the man that Roman was with. In a button down shirt which was barely staying on, he stood back yelling at Dean,  pointing towards him. His face was flush and blazing with anger. He’d walked in and found him with Roman. Or more on Roman. His Roman. Pinned beneath him on the bed as he crawled down that body which gave his so much pleasure and shelter. _

_Hunter. That’s what they call him. This old, sad excuse of a man. One of Roman’s regulars. With his big nose, broad physique and ungentle features. Cold and stern. His body creeping over Roman’s was by far the worst of contrasts. Cold, stern and hard over soft, gentle and warm._

_The image burned him. From the inside out. It enraged him, but also made his stomach flip in pain. Because he was naive to think this was not what he was asking for. When he pushed, punched and kicked passed the VIP security men, making his way through to the private rooms, barging into each one, startling sweaty, naked bodies in compromising positions. Until he found him. Roman._

_Christmas day and these places were still open for business.  Like these super rich filthy scumbags didn’t have anywhere else to be but here, in this high end meat market. Like they had nothing better to do on this day but to get their sexually perverse fill. Maybe their families didn’t care if these men were not home with them. But Dean cared that Roman was not with him on Christmas day. Like he promised he would be._

_And it angered him. Because he was looking forward to it. For the first time in many years, Christmas didn’t fill him with a sense of nothingness. He wasn’t consumed with a ‘whatever’ attitude, which paved the way nicely for a day sat alone at home with a microwave meal for one, a six pack and idly staring at the box._

_Roman suggested the day together,  a turkey with the works. Just the two of them. And it lit Dean up like a Christmas tree. Because Yeh, he wanted that too. So much. But as Roman pushed Dean behind him-a large hand of his firmly on Dean’s leather jacket clad arm pushing him back, the other out in front in an attempt to stop security moving forward- Dean regretted his decision._

_Dean heard the desperation in Roman’s voice as he pleaded with security to back off. His voice sounded desperate. Frightened even. In the 3 months he’s known Roman, Dean’s never heard him speak in such a tone. Timid. Weak. He recalls big nose demanding Roman get rid of Dean and come back to him immediately. He recalls the expression on Roman’s face; when he first burst  through the door. It was the same he wore when he turned to Dean to escort him personally out of the VIP area. He couldn’t understand fully how to process what he saw on that beautiful face. Was it hurt? It wasn’t anger. Not fully. Was it disappointment?  Was it regret? Dean couldn’t tell. All he knew was it churned his stomach like nothing he had felt before. Travelled his whole body like a sharp yet oddly dull pain. Made Dean feel nauseous._

_No words were exchanged as Dean wordlessly handed Roman his Christmas gift- a small gold rectangular box, plenty of tape and small bow- before he looked at Roman one last time. Roman refused to make eye contact and so Dean silently walked away._

 

Christmas night. Streets lit up bright as artificial light infiltrates every corner of the cityscape. It rains down heavily on the few people who are out on the streets. It’s too bright for Dean’s liking. He’s never really got  why everything had to be so bright and overpowering when it came to Christmas. For a time in his life which had never bought with it anything special or worth holding onto, he couldn’t wait for it to be over with. Memories of his youth were not necessarily painful or unpleasant, but he never experienced the sense of family which was always flashed around this time of year. He just didn’t buy it. He openly admitted to be a cynic. Truth be told he couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over with.

The introduction of Roman  into Dean’s  life changed that, turned him from a cynic into a big mushy plush bear. His insides all gooey and his emotions all high. Did something Dean never thought possible- had Dean looking forward to Christmas. But it wasn’t easy.  Dean remembers the inner turmoil he felt for weeks- prior to and after Roman suggested Christmas together. Debating on whether such a move was ill conceived given that although this thing he had with Roman was like nothing he’s ever experienced, he still didn’t know what they were.

Dean recalls the night Roman met him at the bar quite vividly and it serves to instantly put a smile on his face. The memory rushes heat through him, warming  him from head to toe as he slowly walks through the snow. Roman. His hair sleeked back, leather jacket, black hoodie and white shirt. Black jeans and black sneakers. Clear definition and contours of a well sculpted physique, topped off by the most beautiful smile ever.  And his smell, hot and musky. Exotic and forbidden.

The small walk down the block to a chilled out little jazz bar. The Jack Daniel’s Roman bought him at the beginning- which remained to the end. Untouched. The interaction between them where more was said without words. Because verbally the exchanges clearly established they were worlds apart, different tastes in music, sports teams and hobbies. Yet, the company of the ebony haired man  was sheer intoxication. Verbally and physically drawing Dean in, captivating him with every word, every slight movement he made in his chair. That smile, the slight blush which was evident every time he caught Dean staring intently. Within hours of meeting this man he went from dominant seducer to shy care bear. Made Dean’s head spin, drew him in dangerously deep. If that were even possible.  But the way Roman looked at him, the softness in his eyes which was laced with passion. It made Dean feel that maybe this was not just on him. Maybe Roman was feeling those weird and hard to make out sensations too. Maybe Roman was just as dumbstruck by all this.  Just like Dean.

When they were eventually thrown out of the bar at closing time, Roman’s offer of a lift home was not passed up. Sat in Roman’s leather clad interior luxury car, Dean again felt out of place. Out of the league of this well groomed human. But then Roman kept doing what he did, every so often stealing glances, caressing his hand whilst they drove. And those magic hands were doing what they did so well. Calming Dean, making him feel at ease. Making him feel worthy. Because he was here. With him. And he really didn’t have to be.

_Magic man._

Roman enters his small apartment of worn floors, second hand furniture, mis- matched colours and minimal possessions, and makes it feel big and grand. That one endearing smile to Dean’s cringing one. Because if homes reflected on you as a person, Dean’s home spoke volumes about him. A place to lay his tired head after a hard days work. Not a dwelling which was soft with homely comforts.  Just a stone cold place to allow Dean to meet the basic of human needs. 

Nothing more.

And yet, as Roman stood in his flat,  took his time to glance around the place- eyes bright and smile sincere- warmth crept into every corner of this ill looked after abode. Made it feel homely, not merely bricks and mortar. Roman definitely had some kind of magic in his presence, his finger tips. How else does Dean explain all this?

How else does he explain how his tattered and uncomfortable couch feels luxurious under his naked body? The second time in one night. Still so good. Still made Dean feel like there was nothing better.  As Dean held on tight to strong biceps, his heart pumping like crazy and palms sweating, thanks to one large dose of aphrodisiac which moved in and out of his body slowly, Dean felt it swirl in him. This feeling. Powerful and hard to deny. But difficult to define.

As the morning dawned and he lay with Roman on his couch, naked and utterly spent, he had lost all control. Dived feet first into what ever this was. Despite the voice of sanity incessantly pounding at his brain for lack of safeguards around an already weary soul and naïve heart.

Ninety three days. All it took for Roman to firmly root himself into Dean’s life. His thoughts, his desires. His wishes. Night time cloaked his day, which was consumed with Roman. Sunrise bought with it an uncontrollable flutter. Another day of Roman. Another day of memories being made with the minimal and basic of content. Because sharing a conversation with Roman about stuff he’s never been interested in now feels like learning.  Feels like it enhances his life in some way. Roman fills this in Dean. This want. Dean wants to learn.  Do things. Try things. Dean wanted to see and explore. He wanted to live.

It all happened so quickly. And yet not quick enough. Because he’s waited a life time to feel like this. Feel as though he’s finally found the person he was meant to be with. Like Yin and yang. Like contrast between land and sea, different in all things social, recreational, and yet they fit together. Dean never felt more connected before. And truth be told the feeling both exhilarated him and petrified him. And yet despite all this his heart followed itself stubbornly. Paying no heed to that voice of caution in his head.

Roman had pretty much taken to spending all his free time at Dean’s.  No major conversation about cohabiting, just kind of happened. Roman seemed to like coming over to Dean’s, which was good Dean figured as he couldn’t afford to go to Roman’s place that often, what with it being on the other side of town in the upmarket area of the city. Dean was putty for this man,  so much so that he even gave him his own key to his apartment. Roman in his home. In his bed. Most nights. Wasn’t intended but did it feel incredible. Waking up with Roman wrapped around him. Sometimes like a vice.  And all it did was to serve that hot furness deep in him that burned for Roman. Fed the need to have this man close.

 Always.

Christmas morning had started perfectly. The snow softly falling outside his window, coating the harsh streets below like a winter wonderland. And Roman buried deep in him as Dean rode his dick. Slowly, grinding his hips to try and get more. Roman’s large hands on his hips always had a dual affect- both anchoring him but also encasing him possessively. Making him feel Wanted. Needed. Yeh, it was going to be a good Christmas.

How things can changed.

Matter of a few hours and a perfect start had become a heart breaking end to the day. Roman was supposed to be gone for an hour tops. Said he had to get something from his home. But as Dean waited patiently,  Roman called to tell him he couldn’t make it for a few hours. His voice was soft and apologetic. His voice carried with it regret, as he told Dean he had to see a client.  Last minute. Couldn’t get out of it.

Dean felt his breath become shallow, laboured and his mind raced as he tried to keep calm, down play it. Roman was going to meet ‘that’ client. The demanding one.  The one who couldn’t take no for an answer. The one Roman only referred to as Hunter. Roman never spoke about his work, but this man had been demanding of Roman. When Roman came to Dean’s later than usual, he just knew it was hunter being demanding.

Roman promised to be back soon, but as mid afternoon hit, Dean knew he wouldn’t be seeing Roman before Christmas was over. And Dean needed to see him. Give him his gift. Even if it was to be for the briefest of moments, he couldn’t stop his feet from hitting the soft snow outside his apartment and finding the bus which would take him to Roman.  To his work place. But as Dean made his way home by foot, his body was heavy but not as heavy as the ache in his heart. He’d truly blown it with Roman. No way would Roman want to see him again. The thought was enough to tear him in two. Felt too painful to bare. But this hurt, this pain. It was all on Dean. On his naive heart. For falling too fast. For not protecting itself from the inevitable.

The cold night air was replaced by the cold breeze of his flat as Dean entered it.  It looked dull and empty. The slight decorations on the small Christmas tree looked mundane as compared to this morning when they were bright and vibrant. Dean feels his breathing become shallow again, his chest hurting. As his head slowly scans the lounge, Dean sees the slightest of light peek through the open bedroom door.

 _Roman_.

Following the light his mood soars as he sees Roman sat on the bed, with one of the side lamps on. Hair sleeked in a low bun, wearing a grey suit along with a blue dress shirt, he’s a vision for Dean’s sad and sullen eyes. The merriment is short lived though as he slowly processes Roman’s demeanour. His body looks stiff and his facial expression tense.  But not with anger. Anger Dean can handle. The look on Roman’s face is worse. It’s of disappointment and something else he can’t quite figure out. Something he saw earlier in those soft gentle features when their eyes met. When he barged into Roman’s room back in the VIP area. When he had that old pervert all over him.

Roman has the gift Dean gave him still wrapped at the side of him on the bed.  Roman hasn’t opened it. In all this time.  Dean feels his stomach churn. He feels the air tightening in the room and it makes him tense up even more. He’s frozen to his spot, under  the stern look Roman blazes his way from across the room. Makes him feel like a small child stood in front of a Principal. One who’s about to tell him off for doing something he was old enough to know not to do. But this feels like so much more. The punishment for being so stupid was going to be more than a slap on the hand. Dean’s insides twisted uncontrollably. How does he show regret for this. Because there is none. He had to. He had to give Roman’s gift on Christmas. He had to see him. It meant too much.

“Why did you do that Dean?”, Roman asks, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of anger.

Dean looks at the floor, can’t make eye contact. Hands in his pockets as they clutch the fabric in them tight, and  as he chews on his lower lip hard.

“Dean?....you broke the man’s nose- what if they called the cops?”. Roman was exasperated, his voice going high for a brief second, “what we’re you thinking?”

Dean finds he’s voiceless, that although his head is overflowing and chaotic,  he can’t voice anything. He doesn’t look up as he hears his small bed creak, indicating weight shifting, leaving the wooden frame. Dean’s head dips further as he sees a silhouette stand before him, smells that wonderful vibrant cologne which is now synonymous with this intoxicating man. Dean feels his body automatically pull towards him like there’s an invisible electric cable which courses high voltage energy between their persons. How Dean wants to look up, see those beautiful brown orbs. Always so soft and kind. But he can’t.  Because he knows he’s the cause of those usually welcome features being cold. Being disappointed. Dean’s heartbeat quickens in his chest. 

Was too good to last he thinks. But that doesn't bring him any comfort.

Dean bites down on his lower lip that bit more and feels the metallic tinge hit his tongue. The pain brings with it comfort, distraction away from the furore in his mind.  He bites down harder, willing the internal pain to block the emotional turmoil, the external discomfort.

“Dean.... I’m talking to you”. Romans voice is now more annoyed but yet, it’s levelled. Composed.

What could Dean offer as a response which didn’t sound possessive, or obsessive. _I needed to see you....had to give you your present....you said you’d be here and you weren’t._

Dean’s gaze remains rooted to the floor as he bites down harder on his lip, the pain causing him to visibly wince and his eyes to water.

Dean suddenly feels soft large hands gently take hold of his jawline, forcing him to make eye contact and breaking him from his inner thoughts. Reluctantly Dean looks up to see a pair of brown orbs looking at him. Full of concern, soft. Caring. “I wanted to see you, I wanted you to have your Christmas gift. I just needed...”. voice shaky and soft as Dean finds he can’t maintain eye contact anymore. He feels he can’t offer anything which could come close to a good enough answer for what transpired earlier today.

Dean’s body temperature drops as he awaits the inevitable. He expects Roman to walk out and not come back. To leave his life and return Dean back to his small dull existence.

Dean doesn’t expect Roman to draw his face close and cover his plump lips over the broken skin. Taking his time to gently lick, kiss and suck the wound on his lower lip. Repeatedly and lazily. His tongue feels like antidote as it has the ability to take the sting out of the cut. Dean’s body temperate quickly rises as he feels his skin prick and come alive. This feeling was so synonymous with Roman. Had the ability to shake him to his core. Dean wants to grab hold of that thick body, hold onto him for dear life. Imprint the kiss into his memory before its lost. But by the time Dean’s body has caught up with his brain, Roman’s pulling away.

The auburn haired man watches breathlessly, his vision hazy as Roman moves back towards the foot of the bed. Taking the gift box in his hand he slowly works through the tape and wrapping to reveal an Italian silk black tie.  Roman looks at it intently as he holds it in his hand, taking the time to slowly work his thumb over the fabric.

To the naked eye it's a mere tie. It doesn't tell the story of a man spending an hour in a designer shop looking through expensive ties whilst snobby shop assistants watched him like a hawk, sniggering no doubt about how out of place he looked in his worn jeans and tattered leather jacket. But as Dean took the time to feel the silk material under his fingertips, he knew this was the one for Roman. The one to go with the black new wool slim fit suit Roman couldn't find the right tie for.

“It’s to go with the suit you bought for your friend’s wedding”, Dean whispers when Roman doesn't seem to react quick enough. His voice low like he’s unsure if Roman likes the gift or not.

He can’t fully make out Roman’s expression but he seems lost for a moment as he continues to hold the tie. Roman then slowly turns to Dean, his features are soft and warm. A flash. And then tense. His beautiful eyes become focused, slowly changing a shad darker. Filled with desire and need. The kind of look which turns Dean to goo, melts him inside out. But it’s laced with lust he's never seen in Roman before. It catches Dean by surprise. And scares him a little.

Roman sits himself slowly on the bed, removing the suit jacket. Roman’s intense gaze not once leaves those sparkling blues which looked back at him, anxious, apprehensive and yet deeply hypnotised. Roman begins to undo his shirt, unbuttoning it one by one down the centre. His pectoral tattoo comes slightly into view and Dean finds his breath catching in his throat. That tattoo.  On that man.  Never would he get enough of that.

“Take your clothes off.” Roman whispers seductively, and yet his voice is dripping with demand and authority. Roman’s stare is dangerous, it scares and excites Dean all at the same time. Makes him feel powerless. More so.

Dean begins to slowly and nervously take off his clothes as Roman looks on. He unbuttons his shirt and slips out of it and his jacket gently, letting them drop to the floor. Then Dean bends down and unlaces his boots and pulls them off before he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off along with his boxers. Roman hasn’t flinched once as Dean stripped, his eyes boring into Dean. Stripping him to his core. To his very soul.

“Come here”, Roman demands, a hand stretched out to him. Dean hesitantly takes it and moves forward as Roman pulls him in close between strong thighs. Hands sneak back to touch barely warm skin whilst soft lush lips move in to place a chaste kiss on toned abs. Dean’s breath catches in his throat as his hands automatically move to silky hair as Roman continues to kiss and lick the spot on his stomach. Dean finds his body quickly respond as it heats up rapidly, like someone’s lit a fire in his belly. It spreads to cover every inch of his body. As Roman moves back slightly he brings Dean in to straddle his lap. Bright eyes connect and through his own nervousness he sees that look again. The one he saw in the room back in the VIP area. Roman swallows hard before he speaks, “never wanted you to see me like that.....I’m sorry.”

And that stabs Dean deep. Those words. Roman apologising for his bad behaviour. Roman pushes the side of his face into Dean’s bare chest.  Dean inhales a deep breath, musters up the courage to speak, “I. .. don’t do Christmas- like ever. But this year with you I wanted to. So much. And then.....” Dean’s voice trails off, shaky. He breathes deep again, collects himself before continuing, “ he always keeps you too long and Christmas would have been over by the time you came back. Just wanted you to have your gift. So you still had Christmas. On Christmas.”

_Hunter._

_Roman’s regular._

_Always wanted more._

Roman never talked about his clients, but Dean’s overheard heated conversations at times, between Roman and his employers.  That name always dropped. He always wanted to see Roman whenever he felt like it. Always for the whole day. Never a planned schedule. And never in moderation. Dean got the impression Roman didn’t appreciate it. Because his mood would change and he always became so...sad. But it seemed like he never had a choice. And he’d leave not to be heard from for what always was a too long period for Dean.

Roman looks up to Dean,  his eyes are now a bit more brighter and it relieves some of the pent up tension Dean’s been carrying. Feeling slightly braver, the auburn haired man dips his head and covers Roman’s mouth with his. Soft and slow, he moves his lips over his lover’s. The cut stings but in the most exquisite way.  Tongue coming into play to lick and then slither into Roman’s warm addictive mouth. He feels Roman possessively wrap his arms around him keeping him in place as the kiss becomes a bit harsh and a lot more demanding. A gasp leaves Dean as the older man lifts Dean and turns, lowering him down on the bed with quick cat like grace, not once relinquishing Dean’s lips.

_Magic man._

Only when Roman’s body is covering Dean like this does his otherwise uncomfortable mattress feel like satin underneath him. It only flames the fire which is now burning bright in Dean. Roman pulls back- much to Dean’s dismay- to remove his shirt. Slowly, teasingly he brings out one of his weapons of mass destruction. That tribal tattoo looks so good on him, but never better than when it’s covering Dean.  Holding him, sheltering him, moulding him into Roman.

Roman shifts and reaches to the side drawer and grabs the lube and a condom. He moves quickly to remove all other clothing from his body, before he’s back on Dean kissing and licking at his nipple with great enthusiasm. Dean feels delirious with pleasure, back arching as desperate hands undo romans bun to grip onto his hair tight, anchoring him. Despite his best efforts to keep his eyes open,  he feels his eyes roll in his head as he lulls his head back on the bed. He feels like his body's floating in a sea of pleasure. And then Roman stops, causing Dean to look at Roman through half lidded eyes.

Roman shifts to straddle Dean’s hips. His look is utterly lustful, dark and completely spellbinding. Makes Dean’s heart flutter more. If that were even possible. Roman gently runs his fingertips down Dean’s supple torso,  his eyes like a hawk taking in every slight movement under his fingertips, as a shuddered breath leaves Dean’s mouth. Eyes closed he can only feel now. A firm body encasing him and those incredible hands tearing down all sense of control. He then feels something else against his skin. Velvety. Eyes open to find the silk tie wrapped around Roman’s knuckles as he runs it down his forearm. “Trust me?”. Roman asks looking at Dean. 

Eyes full of want but also silently seeking permission. Dean feels the slightest flutter of anxiety mix with overpowering desire. He thinks about it for a few seconds before he raises both hands above his head, one wrist resting above the other. Not a word is spoken but Dean’s lips part again as he breathes deeply, taking the opportunity to shift his body seductively between Roman’s thick frame, letting him feel his pulsing cock underneath him.

Because for roman it maybe a question. But for Dean it was a statement. He trusts Roman.  More than anyone.

Roman let’s out a soft groan, lowering himself to place a tender kiss on his lover’s lip before planting one on the top wrist. He then takes the tie and begins to tie Dean’s hands. The binding is firm but not overly tight. Roman then moves a strong arm to Dean’s waist to lift him up the bed, onto the pillows and flips him onto his stomach before he loops the tie through the metal head of the bed, tightening it to keep Dean in place.

Dean can feel his heart hammer like crazy. He’s never felt quite so vulnerable before. Naked and bound, and yet he mindlessly rubs into the bedding below, his dick throbbing. Head tilted to the side he closes his eyes again as he feels that sinful mouth and tongue on his back. Dean allows the pleasure to wash over him. Roman’s lips and tongue are slowly and agonisingly making their way south. Strong large hands move to lift Dean onto his knees. Back arched and ass up he feels the cool air on his dick and balls as warm hands push his butt cheeks apart. Heart, and cock throb in anticipation.  But nothing. Dean turns his head. An awkward angle but he can just about see Roman from the corner of his eyes. The trigger. That look of complete want written on Dean’s flush face and a wicked smirk flickers on Roman’s lips before he shifts out of sight.

A long thick warm tongue slowly drags across Dean’s puckered hole.  Languid and agonising. It’s shoots fire bolts through Dean’s nerves. Roman does it again. And again. And again before he sucks his cheeks and gathers saliva and let’s it roll off his tongue and onto Dean. The wetness runs down Dean’s thighs while a muscled tongue pushes into him. Starts off gently but soon picks up momentum.  More saliva, more tongue, sucking and kissing. Repeatedly over and over on that twitching hole as it opens up for Roman. Dean above him is a blissful mess. Sweaty and shaking. Rocking himself on Roman’s tongue.  Teeth biting into his own forearm desperately trying - but failing- to muffle the groans and moans which are released.

Kisses and warm palm move up Dean’s butt to the middle of his back. Stroking, caressing.  Soothing. He doesn’t hear the cap of the lube pop but he feels slicked fingers soon being added to the mix of tongue and lips. Taking their time to breach that tight ringed muscle.  Dean’s too reeled up to tense up. Wrists straining against the delicate fabric on them as he wills himself to push past the discomfort and welcome the fingers as they gently probe and then begin to stroke his prostate. Dean dick throbs almost painfully, desperate for some friction as it bobs back and forth with the rock of his hips, fucking those glorious slender digits.

Tongues and fingers eventually end their sweet assault on Dean’s hole. He hears the crisp opening of a foiled packet and that familiar sound of rubber being rolled onto flesh. The smaller man’s body is then pushed firmly back onto the mattress. Roman moves to lay on top of Dean,  his thighs framing Dean’s legs. Dean turns his head instinctively as Roman moves in to kiss him deeply. That incredible dual thing Roman does.  Swallows down Dean’s moans as he pushes in his fat crown with some ease past that initial resistance. All the while soft lips moving over quivering ones, eyes locked firmly on Dean and one hand firmly in messy auburn hair, carding through it with delicate ease. Now balls deep and the only thing moving is Roman’s lips over Dean’s.  Comforting him, distracting him from the burn which shoots up his backside.  A few seconds of pause, before Dean pushes back onto Roman.

Roman begins gently, yet firmly. Pulling out half way then rocking back in. Holding on tight to Dean, one hand snaked around his chest, the other running up to meet Dean’s strapped hands, entwining with one of them. The level of intimacy always feels great, the smallest of touches speaking volumes. ‘Tell me if I hurt you’ he whispers into Dean’s ears, breaking that slow and lazy kiss. His favourite phrase it seems.  Always asked when they were naked and he was moving inside of him. Dean wishes he’d stop asking that. Because he’s never felt more cared for or loved than when Roman was fucking him like this.

_Love._

Adds another mix to Dean’s already overwhelming level of sensation. Body already alight and crackling with bright electrolyte, his heart and stomach up the ante, flutter with such intensity he thinks he’s body may explode. The sensations seem to push the words to the tip of his tongue. How he wants to let the words fall. Be heard. Let this man know just how much he affects him. How much he's come to care for him. But he can't. It scares him. Plus, his brain is struggling to focus in the midst of unbridled ecstasy.

“Roman”, breathed out in between whimpers and moans. Roman’s right there, over him as he picks up the pace and really starts to hit hard. Dean’s prostrate is being blissfully levelled by that gorgeous cock. Dean can’t help but try and lift his hips a little to try and get more contact.  But its difficult with Roman’s whole weight trying to fuck him into the mattress. And yet Roman seems to be so in tune with Dean as he covers Dean’s mouth fully again, tongue pushing in hard for a rough and aggressive kiss. Shifting position slightly, Roman grinds his hips further, trying to give Dean what he wants. It works as Dean screams out and Roman keeps rocking his hips. Dean can't really focus, but through his haze,  he  feels Roman’s hands fumble at the knot which has his hands tethered to the frame.

Releasing Dean’s hands from the frame, Roman swiftly pulls out to move and lie on his side. Dean is quickly pulled in to Roman, spooning him. Dean turns his head and meets Roman’s eager mouth in another searing kiss as Roman lifts one of Dean’s toned muscled legs by the thigh and slams back in hard, tearing a scream of pleasure from Dean’s throat. One hand gripped hard on Dean’s inner thigh whilst the other hand moves to Dean’s throat to hold him firmly in place as Roman continues to slam into Dean hard and fast, jackhammering his prostate relentlessly. Dean’s body feels like it’s about to combust as the fire in him begins to unfurl,  agonisingly and sweetly. His tied hands move back to grip those silky strands like his life depended on it. To anchor him as he feels he’s about to be swept away in the tide of overwhelming euphoria. The grip on Dean’s throat tightens, but only just. More an action to keep him steady than to choke. And yet the slight pressure only adds to sparks which are becoming faster in their approach. Dean’s cock is painfully hard as it jostles back and forth in the cool air with each slam of Roman’s hips.

Bound hands tighten their grip on Roman’s hair as Dean breaks the kiss to moan loudly. His cheeks are flush, mouth parted as he moans loud enough to puncture the lazy Christmas evening atmosphere. Sweat trickling down his forehead, the wetness only adding more delicious sounds to their passion filled session which echoes around the small room. Loud moans, whimpers and flesh hitting flesh. Hard. A soundtrack to their private session. Always on high volume. Always so good.

“Fuck....I can’t hold on”, Roman husks out breathlessly against Dean’s lips.

“Neither can I”, Dean responds. His  breathing laboured, his body trembling. Dean wants to keep his eyes open and fixed on the man whose given him so much pleasure in the short time he's been in his life. Maintain that awkward position of his head craning to the side, to keep those plush lips on him. But his body is betraying him. Endorphins running amok, causing him to cry out, head lulling  back as he comes.  Thick ropes of cum shooting out onto the bed sheets as he arches back and pushes back hard onto Roman’s cock. Roman’s names falls from his lips at such a high volume he’s sure his neighbours can hear. But he’s too lost in rapture to care.

If it were even possible Roman ups the speeds of his thrusts.  Erratic, robotic and utterly delightful as Dean feels only the tingling of his body and that glorious muscle continue to move in and out of him. Roman pulls out of Dean a bit too quick and harsh, causing him to whimper. He then turns Dean onto his back,  places himself between his sticky thighs and whips off the condom. Taking his throbbing cock into his hand he looks at Dean as he begins to quickly jerks himself off. The sight is majestic. Hot, caramel skin glistening,  silky ebony strands fluffy and wild and those dark eyes looking at Dean intensely. Roman lulls his head back as he comes with a drawn out groan, ropes of thick cum shoot onto Dean’s toned porcelain abs, some also shooting onto his cheek. Dean watches Roman through half lidded eyes, feeling completely content in the afterglow. Roman takes a minute to compose himself before he meets Dean’s lazy and adoring gaze. Bright eyes sparkle together for mere seconds before Roman dips to lick the cum off Dean’s cheeks and immediately take Dean’s mouth in a deep kiss. Dean’s insides hum in content as he tastes Roman on his tongue. Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of the taste of this man.

“you ok?”. Roman asks breathlessly as his hands move to undo Dean’s hands from their bind. Dean merely looks longingly at Roman before a small chuckle leaves him. Roman always asked that after thoroughly fucking Dean.  Like he’d be anything but ok. Dean doesn’t verbalise his response.  Instead the minute his hands are free they move quickly to grab hold of that face and pull him down into another deep kiss. Dean feels his toes curl as Roman lazily swipes his tongue inside his mouth.  A long deep kiss. Lips locking and unlocking with this man seemed so natural. Effortless. So right. The kiss breaks reluctantly as they both need air. But Roman remains close.  Moves into wrap Dean into him. They lay tangled in each other.  Cum smearing over bodies as they hold on tight.

 

* * *

 

Dean looks at the light marks showing up on his wrists. His eyes slowly wonder to his thighs. He sees fingertip marked bruises slowly developing there. He smiles to himself. He recalls his first ever encounter with Roman and how he told him no marks could be left on him. But Roman has done nothing but mark Dean in the short time they’ve been together. Physically, emotionally,  Roman left his mark in every way possible. And even as the mere thought  was frightening, Dean didn’t want it any other way. He was Roman’s.  Whether he was claimed or not.

And the thought crosses Dean’s mind. Or more the vision. That one with Roman and that Hunter guy. And it twists Dean’s stomach violently.

Roman returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth and a tube of antiseptic cream.  He gently wipes down Dean’s abs before setting the cloth on the side drawer. Roman then uses his other hand to apply the cream to Dean's cut lip. Roman looked deep in concentration as he soothed the broken skin with the ointment. Taking his time to rub over the area with great care. Once done,  Roman’s naked form moves in close to Dean as he lays his head down on the pillows.  Brown orbs look at Dean with wonder  as one hand moves to caress Dean’s stubble, chubby cheek. Dean wishes he could just get lost in this moment, in this warmth with Roman. But his head pulls him into an uncomfortable reality, outside of Roman’s embrace. Of the warmth that’s created by this man’s presence in his small room. His small world.

Roman,  as he’s done so many times before, picks up on Dean’s change in mood. He picks up on Dean’s crestfallen and melancholy demeanour.

“Dean?”. Roman pulls him closer to his warm body “you ok?”

Dean looks into those calm, brown orbs. It sends shivers down his spine. Always does. Dean feels torn. His stomach churns at the visions his brain incessantly play on auto repeat. The words that have to be out are those which can shatter this short and incredible union of sorts. But its the kind of words which burn and can’t be contained deep in the pits of his stomach. The kind of words which are unlikely to bring Dean any greater joy even when they are out. Dean pushes himself into Roman’s chest. He buries his face into that supple skin before he speaks. Hesitantly. “I didn’t like it.....Didn’t like him touching you” Dean says, his voice shaking and muffled into Roman’s chest.

The hand that’s caressing Dean’s hair stops and Dean feels his body temperature drop. Everything seems to stand still. Dean can hear the blood buzzing in his ears and he pulls further into Roman, his hands moving in with him as he huddles in close. Dean wishes he hadn’t spoken those words. Just let them burn him on the inside.

After what seems like an eternity of tense and heavy silence, Roman speaks. His own voice faltering and shaky, “I...it wasn’t planned. He usually doesn’t see me this time of the year. But then he calls and say he wants to meet today. I told him no. Then he demanded I meet him on the 31st....”

There’s a long pause which has Dean looking up. A hand is placed on Roman’s face as Dean moves his thumb softly, trying to comfort Roman. Roman looks down at Dean, and smiles. He then reaches to the side drawer and pulls out an envelope and hands it to Dean. Dean’s opens the envelope cautiously. Inside there are two first class tickets to LAX airport, California along with a reservation slip for a five star hotel stay  from the 27th  December till January 2nd 2016.

Dean recalls that vague conversation they had awhile back. When they were talking about places they’d like to see. Not much thought was put into it really- Dean wasn’t really very interested in travel- but he said he’d like to see California as everyone always looked happy and it was always sunny. Roman remembered. That conversation which seemed so irrelevant. Dean’s heart flutters in his chest as he feels a lump in his throat.

“If I didn’t see him today, I couldn’t refuse to see him on the 31st.” Roman looked so apologetic and sad, it hurt Dean physically to see him like that. Roman then clears his throat but lowers his gaze, “my job....I don’t really get a lot of say in it.” A long pause and Roman hesitantly looks to meet Dean’s gaze. Bright blue meeting soft, sad brown orbs, “if you can’t do this... if you don’t want to I’ll unde-“

Dean moves is quick to capture those plump soft lips, desperate to swallow those words down. To not let them be aired. Because Dean couldn’t bare to hear them. They were too painful. 

Not even an option.

Breaking the kiss he slowly moves back a slight fraction, hands still firmly on either side of Roman’s face. He shakes his head softly, before pulling Roman in again, holding him tight. Something about Roman hits Dean hard. And for the first time he sees his vulnerability. Those images were no longer about his jealously.  It was about Roman. How he looked. His expression said so much. Dean’s arms tightened around Roman further, to not only keep him close to but also protect him. To shelter him.

“M sorry”, whispered, but Dean means it with every fibre in his body. He feels Roman pull him in tighter as Dean closes his eyes and let’s the feeling of warmth run through him. He puts all those other niggling thoughts to the back of his head, locks them tightly in a box, hoping they stay there. Right now,  nothing was more important than this feeling of having Roman.  Completely.

 

* * *

 

Cold turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce, washed down by ice cold beer never tasted so good. Dean had completely overcooked the turkey and the homemade cranberry sauces consistency was too thick. But sat on the couch with Roman, their naked bodies  wrapped together in only a blanket, it was by far the best Christmas meal Dean had ever tasted.

“Next year Dean, we do this together”, Roman chuckles taking another bite of his sandwich. ”together I think,  we can perfect Christmas dinner.”

_Next year. Together._

Did Roman really just say that? Dean feels the heat rise in his cheeks. Those words. Yeh, together. Next year. He wants that. He could do that. It maybe just be a beautiful fantasy, but Dean allows himself to dream. He looks at Roman and sees just how incredible his future could be.

Dean’s silence has Roman looking up. “You ok?”

Dean smiles widely,  his cheeks flush and dimples on display. He moves in close, nods his head and presses his lips to Roman. A soft chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas Roman, love my present.”

Roman mirrors Dean’s expression. His face glowing in the softly lit room, “Merry Christmas Dean. love my present too, but I think it looks better on your wrists.” That smirk on Roman’s face is sinful. Dean can’t help but look away shaking his head gently, cheeks flushed and heart hammering. Roman takes the opportunity to move in. He takes  Dean’s half eaten sandwich and places it on the plate on the floor before covering Dean’s lips with his, this time in a long, slow kiss.

Christmas 2015. Officially committed to memory as his best so far. As Roman pushes him back on the couch, kiss intensifying and body heat rising, Dean silently prays this is one of many more to come. With this man.

 


End file.
